


Resurfacing

by Darkhymns



Series: Tales of Error [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Errortale, Alternate Universe - Underswap, Gen, Hostage Situations, Kidnapping, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 20:46:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6299776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkhymns/pseuds/Darkhymns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before his time in the anti-void with Error, Sans was kidnapped by him. A rather rough start towards friendship. But is it that surprising, then, why everything's falling apart? [Errortale AU]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resurfacing

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the Errortale AU comic by [loverofpiggies](http://loverofpiggies.tumblr.com/), specifically in response to the current event going on in the [AskError!Sans](http://askerrorsans.tumblr.com/tagged/errortale) blog. Along with some references to my other stories in this series. (Not much, no worries).

 

Sans’ mind had once blanked out on his kidnapping. The last thing he could remember clearly was bringing dragged through the world, to hover over his brother in a golden hall as his error-self laughed in skipping beats. It was as if he had been pulled out of black water to once again see light, slowly opening his senses to understand the danger of everything, and to know that intricate pain that had bound his soul to near numbness.

His time in the anti-void made such senses useless. There was no need to see, because there were no light or shadows to define shapes. There was no need to hear, because not even silence truly existed. And there was nothing to feel, because the concept of textures, and that broad spectrum of sensations he once got from cupping the snow back home, digging his boots through the swampy marshes of Waterfall, and braving the heat of Hotland, was nothing he could any longer hold onto.

Luckily, he was a skeleton, who had no actual eyes, ears, or skin to speak of, so it didn’t matter _that_ much. That was what the soul was for anyway.

 **“c’mon, wimpy blueberry.”** With tendrils as fine as wires, Error held the human soul, glaring at Sans, angry at what he saw. **“for once, be honest with me.”**

And the soul – no matter what – always remembers.

* * *

Before the knowledge of alternate realities, before his own world was fully set on its path towards destruction…

It was the sudden quiet that made Sans stop.

His hourly patrol through Snowdin was being undertaken with perfection as usual. Sound out here by the spruce evergreens (which really quite spruced up the place!) was always a little muffled. A weird thing about snow, as it absorbed sounds, locking them inside their packed forms. At least, that was what Papyrus had told him.

“hello?” he called out. He turned to the right, his bandanna fluttering slightly with the motion. Only quiet, but he felt… apprehensive. “are you a friend?”

Maybe that was a bit forward. But he really did like friends! He turned a full rotation, but still saw no sign of another monster.

“oh? maybe a human?” he asked himself excitedly. But his voice was hushed. He had the feeling that, perhaps, he didn’t want to draw too much attention? Ridiculous though. If he was to join the Royal Guard, he had to prepare for the horde of attention that would come with such a prestigious position.

He took a step forward, his boots crunching against fragile snow and – a hiss, tearing through the rocky cavern ceilings that served as the Underground’s sky.

Sans felt the wind shift behind him, felt something move. So fast, incredibly fast. He swerved to the right to get away. Dark shapes flew past his head only to vanish just as suddenly.

He turned and stared at his reflection.

 **“well.”** The skeleton, his skull dyed with tar, his shin bones coated with old rustic paint, stepped out what could only be called a window that opened in the air. The portal was scraggly, uneven, missing a few vital parts. The skeleton didn’t seem to care, and went through it, one black slipper following the other. When he was fully out, his stuck his hands in the pockets of his equally-as-dark coat. Eye sockets widened, a stark and disturbing red. On that black skull was a grin, painted like gold… or stained like a diseased shade of yellow.

 **“guess i should’ve expected that from a sans.”** The skeleton laughed, and as he did so, his voice lost pitch and rhythm, devouring into itself until it would struggle to get back on track. **“even in this messed up universe.”**

Sans was careful to not say anything just yet. Usually, he’d be scrambling over to give a new prospective friend his signature hug and greeting. Except. Well. Maybe he shouldn’t do that just yet.

“um, that is my name, yes!” he started, and gave a little wave. “so. uh. why’d you attack me? or were you just trying to throw me a present?”

The other skeleton laughed again, low in his throat. He tilted his head. **“present. yeah, guess you could call it that.”** A ring of projectiles floated over him, like sharp, thick lines. **“got a bunch of presents for ya.”**

Sans could recognize blue magic when he saw it, but it was different somehow. Like he was viewing it through a tainted filter, distorting it, hiding it away. He looked to those projectiles, crimson bones that sometimes shifted and tore through the air with an awful screech, then back to his twisted reflection.

“did i… do something to upset you?”

The skeleton grinned, showing more teeth. **“you have no idea, bud.”**

A twin set of skeletal animal heads appeared beside him, each covered in perpetual shadow.

Through all that, Sans’ voice didn’t waver. Alphys always said it was important to be brave. “who are you?”

 **“name’s error.”** The other skeleton’s tone tuned itself to glitching sweetness. **“your new friend.”**

And then movement.

Sans had always been a particularly good dodger. Lot of that was thanks to his training. Alphys had told him to play to his strengths. “A fragile little skelly like you would probably fall over flat after one hit!” she had said, and so taught him to slide around incoming blows. “Never take your eyes off of them. Just keep moving, keep tiring them out. But careful. After a while, you won’t be able to dodge forever _._ ” That was the fun thing about Alphys; she was so strong with her axe, but smart too, always ready to employ some strategy before the next move.

He bet she’d have been proud to see him now. Surely something like this meant he was good enough to join the Royal Guard. He blinked away to the right before gigantic femurs could crush his skull. They instead pierced the snowy ground. A familiar whirring sounded off above him, but with that veneer of wrongness. He teleported again, and the resulting beam charred away a copse of trees instead of him.

He took a moment to catch his breath, gazing at this other skeleton. Error. Who somehow looked like him? “if you wanted to have a friendly match, all you had to do was ask. the magnificent sansational sans accepts all challengers!” He flexed his boney arm, as if it was possible for skeletons to have muscles. The stars in his eyes twinkled like hopeful things.

Error kept smiling. He held out his arm towards Sans, draped in that jacket of his. **“not looking for a fair fight, buddy. just wanna get you wrecked.”**

Wicked red-drenched bones, sharpened like knives, thrusted up from the ground. Sans had jumped away just in time, one thinly-fined point having snagged onto his boot slightly. He shifted away again, back into open space, back where he could face Error again.

“well, if you’re looking for a fight, then i’ll be sure to give it my all!”

**“sure thing, pal.”**

Sans had to keep moving away; he certainly didn’t want to get hit and have the fight over before it even started. (How anticlimactic, not to mention rude!) Dodging one particular bone that tried to pin down his arm, he swung his hand in an arc. Blue shimmered, and alternating rows of white materialized in the air, like a crowd closing in. It was more then he usually gave for a first attack, but he felt it would’ve been bad for him if he didn’t try.

Also, he didn’t want to be a liar. He had to give it his all.

This skeleton with his face was the same. He vanished, sliding behind Sans, the gigantic skeletal heads following after him.

**“that the best you got?”**

Sans whipped around, held out his hand and took hold of whatever soul this creature had. Error’s eyes widened, revealing blue and yellowish irises.

“you’re blue now!” Sans smiled as said color seeped around Error. “that’s my attack!”

But the other skeleton was laughing again.

**“oh, man that was weak, kid.”**

Sudden disappearance, accompanied by a blackout that seemed to take out the entire world. When light and vision came back, Error was behind him again, but closer, much closer.

He tried to dodge away but… but he couldn’t.

**“bit tied up at the moment, huh?”**

He was quickly slapped away to the side. Just before he brutally collided with a tree, he stopped in midair. He gasped a little, happened to look down, and saw strings wrapped around a soul. His soul.

**“guess what?”**

The strings yanked him roughly, bringing him to his feet, stretching his back. They bit deep, immediately sending waves of nausea through him. His legs trembled, but the strings kept him up.

 **“you’re trapped like some useless pig.”** Error looked at him gleefully. Those threads trailed from Sans’ soul to his fingers, tied up around the phalange-tips like a complete set of reminders. **“that’s _my_ attack.”**

Sans couldn’t move still. The bones wouldn’t rise up, and even though he tried to summon his own blasters, they didn’t answer his call. He stayed rigid as the snow piled up on his pauldrons.

Through it all he still kept his smile.

“hey, that’s… that’s a really neat move? where’d you learn it?” He gestured towards the strings, at least as much as he could. It was like he was stuck in some kind of box, with barely any room to stretch. “it- it almost feels like an attack of my own somehow! but mine can’t completely hold them like this. at least usually!”

Error said nothing at first. His grin shifted, his fingers twitched, sending a thrum through the strings. The way this skeleton stood out against the snowy landscape was unsettling. It was like as if he had been cut out of black construction paper and was then placed in a 3D model, looking completely out of place. There were strange glimpses behind him, the aftermath of words that went away as soon as Sans noticed him.

The yellow smile widened. **“wow, that’s… you’re quite something, huh?”**

Sans answered the only way he knew how. “well, the magnificent sans _is_ always something! something great! mweh heh heh!” It was a wonder his voice stayed normal. The laugh had been pushing it, but it had been a great opportunity to talk about himself. How could he waste a chance like that?

Then Error shook his head. **“nah, let’s not keep those.”**

“uh?” Sans blinked, feeling the stars fade. “keep what?”

 **“our names. you’re a sans, i’m a sans. gets very confusing super quick. need a nice handle, for identification purposes obviously.”** He placed a hand against his chest. **“i am error. heh.”** He looked up. **“and you’re as sweet as a blueberry. yeah. how about that? abomination number #11 blueberry!”**

Sans wasn’t against nicknames; Papyrus seemed to like his collection of nicknames well enough! (Pap, Papy, LazyBones Underachiever Extraordinaire) but a word caught him off guard. “abomination?”

Error cackled, its sound seeming to roll off into the distance. **“yep. it’ll serve as a good reminder for ya.”**

Another dark hand reached out. Lines cut through the air, curled themselves around Sans’ soul to join the rest. It made him shake, made both nausea and uneasiness fill throughout his rib cage. For the first time, he legitimately felt scared.

He was paralyzed. This wasn’t the same as his own magic; or, it was but, more invasive? More limiting? And instead of like a hand holding you tight, it was a ring of knives keeping you in, warning you to stay still, stay very still, or you might risk a nasty, fatal cut.

 **“here, blueberry.”** The thing that called itself Error curled all ten finger joints, which was enough to bring Sans to his knees. He didn’t shatter, but, the threat of it…

Sans placed one hand on the ground, his other hand clenched against his chest, brushing against strings that seemed to burn through his gloves. It was the most he could do. “that’s not-! my name is sans-”

Error yanked back both his arms, and Sans was propelled forward. He dragged through the snow, elbows hitting against hidden rocks. He opened his mouth, choking out his breath as evergreens swam in his vision.

Then he was hoisted up before his attacker, chest tightening as Error’s smile grew.

 **“let’s play a game, _you little abomination_.”** He flicked a dark wrist very slightly. The motion stiffened Sans’ right arm, made him think that his shoulder had propped straight out of its socket, and was now just hanging there loosely. He grunted, but that was it.

 **“let’s play, ‘how long can the blueberry last…’”** Error clenched his fingers, slowly losing his voice to misguided modulations and outdated tone adjustments. **“‘before he _begs_ me to stop.’”**

His hands moved further and further apart, and with that, Sans’ soul trembled, sending it beating frantically, pulsating against those lines that would carve him up to nothing.

He looked up to this other self’s face, eye sockets wide, bleeding red and gouged with yellow. Blue streaked from those eye sockets, and it suddenly made Sans very sad, despite the pain around him.

“you’re… you’re hurting a lot, huh?”

Error flinched. The threads didn’t lose their tightness. **“heh, what?”** He sounded genuinely puzzled.

“that’s okay! i mean, i don’t totally get it, but i can try my best to!” Sans lifted up one hand, the one that didn’t feel completely numb. “since i know all you wanted was a friend!”

It was really strange seeing confusion come over a face so much like his own. **“uh. i wasn’t, uh, actually being-”**

“and it’s okay to be nervous! most are, when meeting someone as great as me!” He moved his hand more, and again touched those strings. He ignored the burn, the thrum of frenetic magic that made up its form. The path to friendship wasn’t always easy. “but, i can help! and, even though i think you… might’ve broken my arm, i’m okay with that. luckily, i have fast healing bones.”

Error was not looking like he was having a good time. **“okay, what the hell? can you-”** He curled in his knuckles, reigning in those strings tight. **“can you stop that? you can’t- you can’t touch-”**

“how about a friendship hug?” Sans offered. He willed his hand to grip the lines, glad to have his gloves on for at least some protection. “just, if i could move these over-”

 **“don’t-”** Error’s eyes widened more. The pupils vanished, replaced with jumbled words, the same word, all overcrowding each other, threatening to spill out of his face. **_“̤ͅd̯ọ̤͔͈̭̀ͅn’̢̮̤t̝͘ ̹̳͓̠͚̞t̞̩̱͚̲ơu̗c̨̳ẖ͘ ̴m̫ḛ̠̜̦̤!͕̜̳̬͖͔͢ͅ”_**

Thread tightened much more, and then – well, even though the soul that beat inside Sans might recall those details after…

It certainly didn’t feel like telling him.

* * *

Even in the anti-void, if you still remember the concept of time, then time itself has an effect. And with time, some of those blank slates in Sans’ skull began to fill up. The fight with him, the threats, and the look of genuine fear in Error’s face.

“you’re scared, right? of me?”

That fear was what he saw right now, and recognized.

“i don’t blame you! but i also figured something else out! your true weakness!” Sans held out his arms. “friendship!”

Error, still holding the human soul hostage, stared. **“you can’t be serious.”**

“no need to be nervous. i can still help you!” He lit up the stars in his eyes, like those stars he once saw in a vast sky. “c’mere, error! gimme a big new friend hug!”

 **“ _WHAT.”_** And Error’s fear suddenly intensified. He flung up the human soul, not caring where it ended up.

Sans kept aware of his choices. “hey, don’t worry-”

 **“no, i’m done with this. i’m done with you.”** His eyes vanished, replaced with error messages and uncertainty. **“if you insist on playing games with me - _playing games with me…_ ”** He stepped back. His sentences became near incomprehensible, any semblance of order rapidly degenerating into unfinished pathways. **“then I’ll play a game with you!”**

He reached behind him, and the nothingness in the anti-void opened. A stream of stars emerged, so refreshing against the terrible absence. **“can you guess what it is, you filthy little freak?”**

A crease appeared in the middle of Sans’ forehead. “hey, we shouldn’t have to resort to insults here-”

 **“shut up. just _shut up!”_** Error stepped one foot through the portal. **“you don’t get to ignore this like everything else!”**

Sans waited. He waited and remembered what Error was capable of. No, he had never ignored it. Not really.

 **“this game we’re playing is called, ‘leave the blueberry in the anti-void-’”** Error stepped another foot in, half of his body already gone. **“‘until he _begs me to come back!’”_**

Sans waited still. The human heart floated near him, lifted up by blue and nothing else.

Error grinned, and it was maddening and twisted and served as a bitter reminder. **“now doesn’t that sound fun, _friend?”_**

Then he left.

Tiles of black vanished, shifting to white. Sans waited in suffocating quiet. He held out one hand, palm up, gently coaxing the human soul to come to him. It did so as gently as a butterfly.

He looked at it, trying his best to remember its presence. From back in his world? Or in that room full of humans that lay hidden between the folds of the anti-void? (Not a dream, never a dream).

The memories stayed blank, but he smiled anyway. The soul always remembers, as this human’s did. As his own. And maybe that was enough to get through this?

“heh! alright, human.” He raised his head, looking up into that white where nothing ended, or ever began. At the very least, it couldn’t get much worse than this, could it?

“let’s find our way out of here.”

With the soul in hand, he searched that absence – as much as he could.


End file.
